Monday, October 31, 2016

2..1642 : 10/31/09 : Wasteland

An inch long and a thousand legs what on earth drove you forth
From whatever crack you called home until tonight
And I towered over you a failed flawed and capricious god
And observed dispassionately your hapless plight
And I said it’s been a long hard road you’re on: you didn’t hear me
or maybe you did, but didn’t understand being you’re a brainless invertebrate
And these 35 feet I pace late at night are a wasteland to you
and if the cat doesn’t kill you and you get across, will it improve your state?
And I pulled up short three times so as not to tread on you
what a fool what a fool what a foolish dumb sentiment
as your clockwork ticks you across the wide wasteland
surely I could remove you from the world without detriment
the trouble with the time travel theory that time travel is bad
because treading on a single bug could change it all
is that it assumes that things as they are are ideal
or at least saving because who knows, the coward’s stall
But anyway I let you go to inch your way across
I hope you looking down on me will give me as good
And if you never look down and see the world beneath your feet
transformed into a wasteland; try it once because you should

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